


darlin' you got to let me know (should i stay or  should i go?)

by swishandflickwit



Series: of pretty women and selective gentlemen [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, CS AU, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Pretty Woman AU, cs ff, cs modern au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 08:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8790154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishandflickwit/pseuds/swishandflickwit
Summary: “Fine,” then she narrows her eyes at him. “But this isn’t Pretty Woman. You’re not Richard Gere looking to sweep me off my feet and I’m not Julia Roberts looking to be swept off my feet. This isn’t some movie or a goddamn fairy tale. Got it?”He scoffs, and rolls his eyes for good measure. “Of course not. Julia Roberts stayed for a week. I asked for a weekend. Also,” his smile takes a smug turn then, “I am more devilishly handsome than Richard Gere and you, my dear,” this time she’s certain the way his eyes leisurely sweep the length of her body is intentional, “are most definitely more... enchanting than Julia Roberts.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> A snippet of a pretty woman au that no one asked for.

“Three days.”

“Huh.”

“And you will be paid.  _Handsomely_.”

She cocks her head to the side. “ _How_ handsomely are we talking here?”

He purses his lips though she senses it’s more out of amusement than of irritation at her. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip in a leisurely move that still seems too calculated to be anything  _but_ casual, and yet it’s with Herculean effort that she not bite her own lips and let out a soft moan in response to the sight.

“$6,000.”

Her face gives nothing away but internally, she crows, well  _shit_.

The left corner of his mouth tips up into a crooked smile, as if he  _knows_ what she’s thinking. She should be annoyed as hell, but...  _but,_ the smile brings out the dimple in his cheek despite the scruff that lines his face and she finds that she’s abso-fucking-lutely  _fuckstruck_.

 _Double_ shit, she thinks.

He holds his hand out, fingers uncurling slowly and inching towards her space. “Do we have an accord?”

Six fucking grand,  _Christ_. Is the sky blue? Is water wet?

But still, her face is a blank canvas.

“Fine,” then she narrows her eyes at him. “But this isn’t Pretty Woman. You’re not Richard Gere looking to sweep me off my feet and I’m not Julia Roberts looking to be swept off my feet. This isn’t some movie or a goddamn fairy tale. Got it?”

He scoffs, and rolls his eyes for good measure. “Of course not. Julia Roberts stayed for a week. I asked for a week _end_. Also,” his smile takes a smug turn then, “I am more devilishly handsome than Richard Gere and you, my dear,” this time she’s certain the way his eyes leisurely sweep the length of her body is intentional, “are most definitely more...  _enchanting_ than Julia Roberts.”

His perusal ends in an intense inspection of her lips, and it makes her roll her eyes.

“Whatever,” she returns though her lips quirk upwards in poorly concealed humor. But before he can comment on it, she continues with, “Deal.”

“Aye?”

His eyebrows do a dance atop his forehead that should  _not_  be endearing but by god  _it is_  and just  _what the hell_  has she gotten herself into?

She gives a near imperceptible shake of her head as if she can dislodge the crazy thoughts up there. Then she glares at him like it’s his fault.

(Because  _it is_ )

“Did I stutter?” She looks at his still outstretched hand and also because she has apparently arrived in Crazy Station she might as well board the train too.

So she takes it.

Gives it a quick shake.

(Tries to ignore the way electricity shoots up her arm at the contact)

(Or the way her skin warms and her blood sings when, instead of giving it a shake too, he raises it to his lips where he bestows a lingering kiss upon her knuckles)

(A kiss that is hardly chaste, if that hint of tongue is anything to go by)

She’s quick to withdraw and if he’s offended by the action, he’s got a funny way of showing it because there’s a shit-eating grin on his face and an excitable bounce to his step when he nears her.

“Oh, love,” the grin turns soft suddenly, as he tucks a stray lock behind her ear. Her breath catches. “It’s sure to be an interesting weekend.”

She doesn’t reply. Just tries to swallow the acquiescence that burns in her throat in lieu of the thought that pushes itself to the forefront of her mind once more.

Just what the hell has she gotten herself into?

**Author's Note:**

> Should I keep going? Thoughts? :) Title taken from The Clash cause it's currently stuck in my head.


End file.
